Chapter 13
ALLIANCE
Auren watched as Lucien jolted into action. Though, his movements were sluggish, and the bags under his eyes were prominent.
And Auren knew precisely why he was plagued with such exhaustion.
He held his scythe out, relaxing his posture into a non-threatening stance. "I do not wish you harm, Lucien Quenlan. I am here to speak with you of a matter of great importance."
The glasses on the doctor’s nose slipped as he fumbled tiredly for something in the top drawer of his desk. Auren tsked, tapping the top of a stack of papers with the curved blade of his scythe. "Do not move," Auren said calmly. "I am here in peace."
Green eyes shone behind the frame of Lucien’s glasses as he looked up at him, the low light from the lamp catching on the lenses.
"The last time you saw me, you threatened me, Soul Searcher.
Why should I believe you?" The doctor’s hands stilled on the desk drawer, his expression hard as vines snaked around his wrists.
Auren regarded the man, forcing himself to relax further. It would not do if Lucien were wary of him. He applauded the man’s leadership, but he was clearly not a fighter.
"I know better now. I know more," Auren stressed, "and I do not apologize for being cautious, only that it took me so long to realize the truth." His voice was soft in the room, blanketing everything with a weight unable to be denied.
"The truth?" Lucien questioned, his eyes shifting imperceptibly until they fell to the drawer, his hands moving a fraction of a muscle as he held himself rigidly in his chair.
Auren saw it all. He blew out a soft breath, a mere sigh, really, as he took two quick steps closer, knowing the movement would be but a blur to the man’s eyes.
Sometimes, Auren had a difficult time remembering what it felt like to be human, to not be able to move as swiftly as the very air, or push his body to the limits.
Lucien flinched, yanking a small pistol from underneath a stack of papers in his desk drawer. His hands shook as he aimed it at Auren.
The Soul Searcher cocked his head. "You do not wish to harm me. Your role is to heal, not hurt."
"You know nothing about me," Lucien spat, eyes narrowing, and he stood slowly, even as Auren kept the blade of his scythe pointed down, resting on the desk. "You have no idea the lengths I would go to."
But Auren did. "I know much, and I know of the lengths you have gone. None of it is for yourself, but always for another. You are not the villain you think yourself to be," Auren implored, "but a man trapped, trying to do the best he can. I say again, I will not harm you."
Lucien’s aim wavered. "You said you came here to speak… Do so, before I am forced to use this."
It was the only opening Auren would get—and he would take it.
"I have been searching, you see." Auren smiled at the pun. "Every search led to one place. One name. Blackfall."
A snarl took hold of the doctor’s lips, twisting his cool indifference into feral tenacity. "Anything you have to say, regarding that name, I’m not interested in."
"Even if it has to do with an Aetherborn Hunter?" Auren arched a brow.
The words hung between them, poised like a blade.
Lucien stilled, and it did not even appear as if he were breathing. "What about her? Is this about the time you brought her to the hospital?"
"In a way," Auren replied. "That is where it all started." He held the doctor’s eyes as he said, "Vesperin and I are Soulbonds. And I know you are her Soulbond, as well."
His arm dropped, the muzzle of the gun falling to point at the floor, dangling from the doctor’s limp fingers. Like all the air had been sucked from him, he stood deflated on the other side of the desk.
Auren inclined his head to the chair. "I believe you should sit, Lucien. As I said, I am not here to hurt you, I am here to help you—to help Vesperin."
Lucien sat heavily, and Auren did the same, leaning his scythe against the desk as he sat on the small chair across from Lucien. The gun rested on the desk, and Lucien stared down at it, eyes wide.
"What do you know?" the doctor rasped.
"I know that you have been trying to keep Vesperin safe, on your own," Auren started. "I know that you are being used by Blackfall Industries, and I know that you are being threatened."
"How—" Lucien cleared his throat. "How?" he finally settled on, the word a mere exhale.
"Since you and I first… met"—Auren doubted the first time he had cornered the doctor could be called a mere meeting; it had been a warning, plain and simple—"I have been digging in the shadows, and what I saw hidden there, it frightened me.
" As he spoke, he realized the truth in it. And across from him, Lucien’s jaw dropped slightly.
It was no feat for an immortal to be scared, yet, here he was—deeply, deeply concerned about what was transpiring here, with Blackfall Industries, the Aetherborns, and Vesperin herself.
"I do not frighten easily, Lucien, that is why I’ve come to you.
To offer my help, but to seek your own, in turn. "
"What could a Soul Searcher need from me?"
"Your knowledge. Your position," Auren said.
"My position?" Lucien questioned.
"Sabine and Talor Blackfall are using you, and I believe they trust you, as well as they can. It is that trust, I desire."
Understanding flashed in the doctor’s eyes. "You want me to spy on them for you."
"More than that—I want you to help me bring them down."
Lucien drew a sharp breath. "How did you come to know of Vesperin and me’s connection? And how can you be her Soulbond, as well? You are a Soul Searcher. Immortal. Have you known her longer than that day you brought her to the hospital?"
There was a wariness in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. Auren knew it would take more than a common enemy to bring them together.
"My name is Auren Neris. I met Vesperin Vox the first time on Earth.
I have known her for three lives, and each one, I have been forced to reap her Soul.
" The words dredged up such painful memories.
"I have loved her and waited for her for centuries.
Until now. That day when she collapsed and was admitted to the hospital. What did she tell you of it?"
"Merely that a Soul Searcher had brought her there."
Auren held Lucien’s eyes, then he told him everything.
Starting with that day, when he had first seen Vesperin in Nova Zone 21, then, again, entranced by the girl who held the same softness as the one of his memories, yet tainted by a cold persona, with hair and eyes and skin, leached of all color, of all warmth.
He told him of how he had been searching for answers to why she no longer remembered, and how the search had led to Blackfall Industries, and Sabine and Talor, who had been illegally experimenting on Aetherborns, trying in vain to replicate the perfect storm that had bred Vesperin.
This, the doctor knew, and his knuckles grew white, shame falling over him, but Auren had not lied—he did not fault Lucien for trying his best. He had put himself on the line to keep their Soulbond safe. And now, he would no longer have to do so alone.
Throughout it all, the doctor was silent until the last word fell from Auren’s lips, and a strangled sound tore from the doctor’s chest.
"She’s your Soulbond," Lucien breathed.
"As she is yours," Auren countered calmly.
"Do you know about Kiton?" His words were shrouded in pain and grief.
Auren nodded, just once. "I know that he was subject to many of the experiments Vesperin endured at the hands of the Blackfalls."
"Then, you must know he is—he has died." Lucien’s voice broke, grief cutting his words off jaggedly. "On a mission off-planet. But Auren, I do not believe it was a mere accident."
"Neither do I." Auren held his eyes. "That is why we need each other, to keep her safe. Together."
Rin’s skin was sticky with blood.
She carefully sat up, feeling the skin at her neck tug from the wounds—the fucking bite wounds from the vampiric prick who claimed she was his Soulbond, yet forcibly drank from her.
Rin tried not to let her anger get the best of her. Yet… not even Cyrus had fed from her by force.
If Rhyden Valkar was telling the truth, Rin didn’t think she would ever forgive him for this.
She moaned weakly as she finally stood, wavering with a hand on the bed and her head hanging low, her hair falling in her face.
"I don’t feel so good," she breathed, swallowing mid-sentence to gather her wits. Her lungs felt robbed of air, and her heart was beating so fast it felt like a hummingbird’s wings, one beat from ripping free from her chest.
The bed was covered with blood, in a pool where she had lain, with the leader of Noctis on top of her. She felt it on her, even now, sticking to her neck, coating her shirt and palms.
She looked like she had stepped out of a gory horror film.
Rin stumbled to the door, finding it locked again—of course.
She leaned her full weight on it, unable to stand upright. Her palms streaked blood across the knob as she wrenched it, muttering a curse when her vision swam.
"I have to get out of here," she slurred, feeling like the whole room was tilting as she turned, searching for… something. Anything.
The hairpin lay discarded on the floor, coated in blood. She made for it, nearly toppling forward as she bent to lift it in clammy, blood-stained palms.
The tip was sharp, and Valkar’s slowly congealing blood dripped sluggishly from it. How long had she slept?
Dazed and confused, her feet tripped over air as she fell back against the closed door, shoving the sharp tip of the hairpin into the lock. The pointed tip was tapered, and she could not fit much inside—but it was enough to pick the lock. At least, she hoped.
Her every move was shrouded in desperation, thicker and more pressing now than ever before.
For Rin knew what lengths Valkar would go to. And she knew why he wanted her.
Fear pricked against her nape like shards of cold water, making her wish for Cyrus.